Never again would birds' song be the same
by when whales drown
Summary: After the Rebellion, Katniss is in a psychiatric hospital, trying to avoid haunting images of Prim. She's no longer needed and the New Government wants people to forget about the girl on fire. However, it is not what Katniss wants. Will she ever be able to start fighting again, first time in her life, solely for herself?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there! So, this is my The Hunger Games fanfiction. The reason why I decided to write this is that I felt pretty unamused by series' ending to say the least. In my opinion, that's just not how it works in real life. You do not magically cure from all losses, don't go writing books about the dead ones, don't start a family and give birth to a few babies. Just. Not. The process of post-war rehabilitation is much longer than the actual war. And, secondly, I don't believe for a second that the New Government will treat Katniss indifferently and will leave her alone at some point. This is not likely to happen. She's too powerful figure to let go. So, this is how I see Katniss' post-Rebellion life. The real fight only starts at this point.**

**A/N 2: I would really (really!) appreciate your reviews, especially in terms of my grammar and stylistics for I am working hard for it. And, of course, your views on the whole story/plot/character development and anything else. I am open to any criticism because it will definitely make me better.**

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm nineteen years old. I suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder.

The therapist they hired for me says that acceptance is half-way to rehabilitation. I am self-destructing numb piece of shit, that hasn't felt anything in past two years. Are you fucking happy now, Doctor Salome?

Since the rebellion, two years have passed. What I've seen? Plenty of shit. I've seen my mother not wanting talking to me anymore, I've seen Gale going away from me, I've seen Peeta taking my hand and trying to save me. That's the day when I stabbed him. In the face. In the fucking perfect face. With a fork. They had to put stitches.

They kept me in a psychiatric hospital in the Capitol. They forbad me to see Peeta. Good. I didn't want to anyway. I didn't want to hurt him, though. God knows why I did it. I just felt so angry. I felt so angry because he thought he could comfort me. I killed my own sister and he thought that his hands on mine would help me. I laughed in his face. And then I've tried to spoil the perfection.

Guess what? I did it. No one has the right to live when she's dead. They chained me to the bed. They gave me nothing but meds. I screamed my lungs out with her name. I stole the paint from our rehab room. I painted her name everywhere, and when a nurse came, she saw me with her name on the walls, on my body, on my face.

I've pronounced it so many times, it stopped being sacred. I've spoiled it. You see, it has been holy and my mouth profaned it. Therefore, I tried to erase my mouth with a knife in our dining room. God, they were scared. I just slashed one cheek in a half, from the edge of my mouth to the temple, and there was just a little blood, but, God, were they screaming.

I know they think I've completely gone mad. I am, however, not mad. I just want to destroy every little perfect thing and then rebuild it in havoc. I want everything be much less than her. I simply can't forgive them for their ability to live when she's gone.

My therapist has tortured me with triggers. She says that I have to let go. I wanted to kill a stupid bitch but she's already dead inside. And they chained me to a chair.

Nobody trusts me. I've been a symbol. Now I am a trash. They hate me. But more than hate, they are afraid of me. They are afraid of what I've become, because deep inside they know that it is their fault. They are afraid that I will take revenge. I am smiling with the half of my mouth because the other half is paralyzed. They are so stupid.

I am not crazy. I just hate them. Hate Peeta. Hate the Capitol. Hate the New Government. The only thing I've ever loved was Prim and now she's gone. Oops, this is the trigger.

Here she goes. Stupid bitch. Fucking therapist. Fucking nurses. Why they are in such a rush? What's in this syringe? Oh. I remember now. My knuckles hurt as hell. I punched the wall. With knuckles and then with my head. I feel so sleepy right now. Is that my blood on the wall? Whoa, that's a lot of worthless liquid.

I haven't seen daylight in six months. The last time I've seen sun was the day when I stabbed Peeta. He has never visited me again. That's good. Fuck him.

I wake up with a mist instead of brains. For the last two weeks they gave me so much meds I threw up on myself every night and almost chocked twice on my own vomit. I wish I would have chocked.

My wrists hurt. I want to scratch my head. But, fuck me, I am chained to the bed. The ceiling is white. I have to get out of here.

Let me think. How?

At first, I will stop misbehave. I will stop thinking of the holy girl. Then I will persuade the therapist that I am the holy girl…

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Why did I have to say this?

Here they are, with the new syringe. I must have been screaming. I can't do it any longer.

I have to get out.


	2. Chapter 2

I haven't been eating proper food for the last eight months. Since the day I slashed my cheek in two with a knife. They gave me some vitamin shit intravenously for two weeks. Since then they have fed me with some slush through a pipe in my throat. Good. I wasn't going to eat myself anyway. They were puzzled by the fact that my cheek wouldn't recover. That's because I scratched it out every night until I saw blood under my fingernails. Seeing blood makes it all seem real. Makes me real.

However, they made an exception for my eating habits when Peeta came. He was here constantly. He begged them to let me eat with him in a shitty hospital canteen. He thought the reason I was that bad is that I hadn't had any company. Except for him, of course. That's kind of truth, I had been lying in my bed most of the time, staring at light grey walls and white ceiling with long bright lamps. The first time in the canteen I didn't eat. Nor I talked. Peeta, however, did both. He was a decent person after all. Unlike me.

He told me stories from the outside world. I wasn't interested, but, at least, I listened. He told me about the New Government mostly. It was the only theme that didn't affect me in any way. What I understood is that although Paylor, ex-commander from District 8, was the president, she didn't have an absolute power, because they convoked the Parliament. All her decisions were supervised by the Parliament and, finally, it seemed to be a democratic system. Peeta was relieved. I knew that. He has never said anything about **the incident**.

I guess he was simply scared to bring up my bad memories. But I really couldn't care less. It wasn't a bad memory at all. The girl's death was a bad memory. The incident was a shitty but the most positive memory I possess.

I remember the day of the incident very clearly although I don't remember most of my life since the day the holy girl burned. I remember killing President Coin and I remember waiting for a trial. It has taken almost a year to acquit me finally. It didn't seem like a year, though. For that year I've been living in the apartment I got when I first came to the Capitol as a tribute. The only people I saw were Peeta, Haymitch, Dr. Aurelius and, sometimes, Mom. Gale came only once. He said he was sorry for everything. I know what he implied. He was sorry for the bombs that killed my little sister. I kept screaming even five hours after he'd left. I just couldn't stop. He never came back.

Mom came twice a month, always wearing that forced sympathetic expression. I knew she was scared of me. Not for me, but of me. She tried talking to me but I wouldn't answer. She failed Prim as much as I did. She knew it. The difference between us was that she could continue living with it and I couldn't.

Peeta was there every day. He cared for me, that's for sure. In particularly bad days when I wouldn't even open my eyes for him I heard him crying. I guess, I should have felt sorry for him but the truth was I didn't. I didn't feel sorry at all. I felt angry. I felt empty. I never understood how it is possible to feel nothing at all and at the same time feel so much hatred. They say anger is a secondary emotion and it always comes from love. Bullshit! I feel angry all the time, from the very first second I open my eyes in the morning. But I don't love anything on Earth. That's the only thing I'm certain about. I loved Prim and I failed her. I will never be able to love anyone anymore. I guess I've exhausted my love supply for a lifetime.

When Peeta was with me, he asked me not to commit suicide. I wasn't able to, anyway. They watched my every step. Dr. Aurelius came every day. He talked to me for hours. Sometimes I would answer, sometimes I would scream. When I screamed, they gave me morphling, but I knew that Dr. Aurelius didn't like it. He genuinely thought that I am still able to recover. He believed in me. He was a good person after all. I failed him as well.

When the trial was just over, Dr. Aurelius decided that I'm ready to "do my job". That was how he put it. I didn't understand back then, what did he mean.

I met the New Panem Government the next day. Peeta and Haymitch were with me. There were few in the Government I knew: Paylor the President, Plutarch as a secretary of communications, and the temporarily Parliament for they wanted to hold an election for it. There were many people from the Capitol, far more than I've expected. Haymitch said that they were fighting on our side in the War, but I didn't believe him for a moment. He thought that I wouldn't understand the importance of the Capitol representation in the New Government. He was right. I didn't.

They all seemed to be very fascinated by me. They couldn't put in mind that such a little creature managed to become a symbol of the Rebellion. I don't judge them on this one. I don't understand it neither.

That's when they told me. Paylor said a long speech about the War and New Panem, then she continued with the responsibilities that lied with us, and suddenly came to the suggestion that Peeta and I should make a tour through Panem in order to encourage people to build a new life, and, most importantly, to support the New Government. Although it was worded as a suggestion, it clearly wasn't one. It was an order. I guess it was the day when I understood that something went wrong. That killing Snow and cancelling the Hunger Games don't automatically mean that people will be happy to accept any further changes. That the Government wants to use me again. That they want to make me a puppet in one more game and this game is far beyond my control.

Paylor said that we needed to calm the country. We needed to show where our loyalties lie. With the New Government.

Peeta agreed immediately.

I advised them to go and fuck themselves.

They didn't appreciate it, though. Paylor said coldly that she would give me a night to think, and guards leaded us out.

- Are you fucking thinking what you are saying, mockingjay, or is it too fucking complicated for a poor mental girl? – Haymitch started screaming the moment we were out.

When I was already jumping on him wanting to tear his face apart, Peeta caught me and started calming us both down. He talked to me for hours. He put it simply. He said that there were no options. I objected that there was always a choice and suggested we both jump from some roof. It was just to irritate him. They wouldn't let us do it anyway, I knew it back then. I had tried to escape my security before and commit any form of suicide but they had seemed to think it through properly. Peeta just shrugged.

- You should bless your God for Dr. Aurelius, sweetheart. He apologized for you being so… how did you put it exactly? "unstable"?. – already drunk Haymitch returned to the room with Dr. Aurelius.

- I'm sorry, Katniss. – Doctor looked quite unhappy. Not that I gave a damn. – I couldn't delay it any longer. The Anniversary of the Rebellion is just in two months.

I nodded slightly. After all, he tried to comfort me. But I knew damn well what did that mean. I had to do another Victory Tour. I needed to convince people of what I didn't believe myself one more time.

That was two months before the incident.


End file.
